


take me to that place when I need someone

by leeds



Category: Harry Styles - Fandom, cillian murphy - Fandom
Genre: Fluff and Smut, LOTS of inner praise, M/M, Post-Dunkirk, Set in Paris, Smut, and lots of feelings, au where cillian isn't married, but it works in his favor lol, harry is definitely not straight, harry is enamored and a little clumsy, where cillian and harry have both coincidentally gone on vacation, wholesome fluff and smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-21
Updated: 2017-08-21
Packaged: 2018-12-18 10:59:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11872956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leeds/pseuds/leeds
Summary: Cillian and Harry run into each other at a café in Paris, and Harry is definitely not straight.





	take me to that place when I need someone

**Author's Note:**

> Title from the song "On + Off" by Maggie Rogers, which I listened to while writing this. Here's a little playlist if you like listening to music while reading: https://open.spotify.com/user/lanarosed/playlist/6JQTvb4T2puvcKIrp8takT

The man sitting at the small café table winced as he removed the black sunglasses resting on the bridge of his nose. The two round jewels of blue that lay betwixt his squinting eyelids fixed themselves upon a quite handsome young man that was seated just a few tables away from him. He couldn't help but stare at the boy, for he seemed to radiate. _Harry Styles_ , he thought. _What are you doing in Paris?_

Because he was feeling especially impetuous, he picked up his cup of coffee and walked over to where Harry was sitting. As he approached, Harry looked up at him, surprised. Cillian took the seat next to him.

“Cillian,” said Harry, seemingly enthralled by the presence of the older man, who smiled at him fondly.

“I wonder if there’s any photographers around—it may look as though we’ve run away together,” Cillian said in his low-voiced, charming Irish accent, eyes piercing Harry as he smiled. Harry’s heart tingled at the statement, and he smiled back.

Harry cleared his throat. “What brings you to Paris?” he asked.

“Oh, I just thought I needed a little escape. Everyone’s so friendly here,” Cillian chuckled. “It’s a place full of eligible…people.” He smirked. Harry’s heart raced as he thought about the statement—people, said Cillian. Not women, but people. _Noted_ , thought Harry.

“Oh,” said Harry, not knowing how to reply. He imagined being fucked by the man sitting next to him between blinks, but his sexuality was his dirty little secret, and he wasn’t about to make a confession in a populated public place.

“So what are you doing in Paris, then?” asked Cillian.

“Same reason,” said Harry, keeping eye contact, nervously tugging at his lip. Cillian smiled, and took a sip of his coffee. Harry went to take a sip of his own, but his overly-full cup did not behave in his favor. “Shit,” he said as coffee dripped onto his crisp white suit.

“You should probably take care of that as soon as possible,” said Cillian. “Where are you staying?” Harry told him. “My hotel is closer, why don’t we go take care of your little problem?”

Harry gulped, and agreed.

Cillian smiled to himself as he got up. There was no way he was going to let Harry get away from him this time.

…

Cillian had Harry up against the wall of his hotel room, his hand on Harry’s lapel. _I'm straight_ , Harry had said defensively just the second before, after Cillian led him into his impressive suite and said, _Sorry for the mess, but I don't think it'll matter soon_ , while shrugging his jacket off.

"Don't worry, I am too," Cillian said to Harry, smirking, mouth an inch away from the green-eyed boy's. Harry breathed heavily and ended up being the first to break, moving that inch in what felt like slow motion, and Harry couldn’t tell whether it added ten years to his life or took away ten when he felt Cillian’s lips against his own.

Cillian placed his hands on Harry's waist under his suit jacket as they kissed. The jacket was shed quickly while Cillian's fingers trembled on the buttons of Harry's shirt. He could hear his own heart beating and could feel Harry's as well when he laid his palm flat against his bare chest. He dragged it down Harry's hard abdomen, over his inky black tattoos, and into his trousers. Harry's length in his hand, he could barely breathe. He was thick and hot, thrusting into his fist in desperation.

Cillian stroked Harry as the younger man moaned into his mouth, their kisses wet and desperate. Harry dragged his lips over Cillian’s freckled cheekbones and kissed the laughter lines at the corners of his eyes, which fluttered closed.

Cillian hadn’t had someone this young in a long time, and he usually tried not to get mixed up with his co-stars, but everything about Harry excited him. His personality was absolutely magnetic—it was virtually impossible to drag yourself away from him. He was also so unbelievably talented that it could make one angry, but Harry happened to be the kind of person whom one could never have hard feelings for. In Cillian’s eyes, he was perfect, from head to jade eyes to toe.

They had talked a few times on the set of _Dunkirk_ , Cillian embarrassingly enamored with the boy the entire time, but the prospect of a deeper relationship between them didn’t seem realistic at the time. Harry was young and at the heart of what seemed like hundreds of press junkets and special events, and Cillian was a busy man as well. But, now, by a twist of fate, they were given a chance.

Harry, meanwhile, was in heaven. Little did Cillian know that Harry often thought of him since their time together on set. Harry couldn’t believe that such an angelic being could exist, even when Cillian was covered in oil for the war-time role, and his sarcastic sense of humor was extremely endearing. His heart clenched at the café when he looked up to see Cillian approaching him—he thought for a second that maybe he was imagining it.

Harry felt privileged to kiss the skin that belonged to Cillian Murphy. He could have cried when his lips touched the constellations of freckles and the soft, plump lips set under dazzling baby blue eyes. Cillian exuded pure beauty and eminence.

Harry quickly unbuttoned Cillian’s shirt with one hand while the other pulled Cillian closer against him.

“Straight my arse,” said Cillian before he kissed Harry again. They both smiled into the kiss as Harry pulled Cillian’s shirt off.

Cillian led them to the bed and pulled he and Harry’s shoes and pants off. Harry straddled him immediately, desperate for physical contact. He finally got access to Cillian’s untouched cock, which he rutted against with his own, his large hand around them both, pre-cum dripping onto his knuckles.

They were messy and overwhelmed, skin shining and the napes of their necks damp, but the relief they received from the French breeze drifting in through the open doors to the balcony was wonderful. Cillian’s freckled skin prickled, hairs raising. He gave a small whine when Harry got up, but his mouth was soon gaping open in a low moan as Harry’s lips enveloped the head of his cock. Harry had one hand around its base while the other was wrapped around his own length.

“Fuck,” Cillian breathed into the dimly lit room, glowing in spots from the late afternoon light. Harry smelt of vanilla, like he had rubbed it behind his ears, and it made Cillian’s mouth water.

Cillian’s cock disappeared into Harry’s wet, hot mouth slowly, and he felt agonizingly aroused. When Cillian looked down to see Harry’s hollowed cheeks giving even more prominence to his cheekbones, he was absolutely captivated, frozen in time, wondering where any thought that wasn’t _Harry_ went.

Cillian was lost by this point. Harry had taken his heart and put it in his own chest. They were beating as one, and he longed for them to move as one, Harry beneath him, hot and tight. So, he pulled Harry’s mouth to his, tasting his own musk, and prodded at Harry’s hole. Harry clenched around his fingers.

“Try to relax,” Cillian said between lingering kisses. He felt Harry let go of some of his tension and then pushed two fingers in up to the second knuckle. Harry's fingers dug into the skin of Cillian’s back.

Cillian added another finger and fucked Harry with the three at a steady pace. Harry groaned as Cillian dragged the tips of his fingers against his prostate. He started to grind back into each thrust, panting with his head thrown back.

“Ready?” Cillian asked, and Harry stared at him with his doe-like green eyes, nodding. In that moment, Cillian got a sense of just how young Harry was. Despite the dirty acts he had committed—and not only with him, he knew—there was such innocence in some of his expressions. No matter what Harry did, he remained a pure person, and for that, Cillian wanted to shower him with whatever he wanted for the rest of his life. He knew that this may only be a one day or one week or one month thing, but Harry simply overwhelmed him.

Using his left hand to position his cock at Harry’s entrance, Cillian lowered him onto his length. Harry breathed heavily, chest glistening, feeling so many emotions at once.

Cillian took a minute to let Harry adjust to the feeling of being full after bottoming out. Harry let out shaky breaths into Cillian’s jaw. “Move,” he begged. Cillian obliged, starting slow, fucking upwards into him.

“Faster,” Harry moaned. Cillian licked his lips before gripping Harry close to him and laying him on his back on the bed. He fucked into him faster, watching Harry become more and more wrecked, cheeks pink and eyes glassy.

Harry had never felt this good. Touched by the hands of a god, frozen by icy blue irises, yet set on fire by the feeling in his stomach, the feeling traveled to every part of him, through his veins and out of him in a throaty moan. He loved feeling absolutely _filthy_ , but he also felt like he was being purified from the inside out.

Cillian came with a drawn-out moan, hair sticking to his forehead, and fell to the bed beside Harry, who glowed. Cillian stared at the ceiling, trying to catch his breath. He looked at Harry, who was already looking at him, and smiled. He gave Harry a chaste kiss and just laid there looking at him, cum smeared over Harry’s laurel tattoos and a shining grin on his face.

Harry fell asleep to the feeling of Cillian’s fingers on his scalp, stroking him into deep slumber.

Harry woke up to the smell of coffee. Sunlight poured into the room and landed on the image of Cillian sitting at a table on which a platter of standard pastries lay, a sheet wrapped around his unclothed body, glowing like an angel sent to Harry from above.

“I almost forgot how long young people slept,” Cillian said, noticing that Harry’s eyes had opened. He smiled at the boy, eyes twinkling. For someone who was almost twice Harry’s age, he emitted a freshness that was startlingly similar to the youth he no longer had.

Cillian got up and sat next to Harry on the large Parisian bed. With a finger under his chin, he led Harry’s lips to his. There was a softness in his touch and in the look he gave Harry afterwards, such fondness in his limpid eyes and warmth in his skin bestrewn with minuscule flecks. Cillian was a living, walking galaxy, so it was appropriate that he quickly became Harry’s entire world.

_The City of Love_ , Harry thought as he looked at Cillian. He never imagined that his vacation would result in this beautiful man being next to him, bathed in golden light and better than any knight in shining armor. It was more than a coincidence that they were brought together again. It was as if they were connected by a thread, and they both followed it to the place which would give them a chance. This was more than a fantasy—it was tangible fate.

**Author's Note:**

> My second Cillian/Harry fic! This was super short compared to the first, but I hope you enjoyed! Leave kudos & comments giving me some feedback! Thank you all x
> 
> P.S. I have a Harry Styles/Tom Glynn-Carney fic in the works so if any of you are interested...stick around


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